Beard Science (Winston Brothers #3)

Based on the love bite on his neck and the way he was avoiding my eyes, I translated his statement to mean, I went to Shelly’s house and we had a lot of sex.


Usually I couldn’t abide having my quiet time interrupted, but Beau’s appearance at this late hour was actually fortuitous. It was past time to clear the air about Shelly Sullivan.

“Sit down, Beau. I think we should talk.”

He removed his jacket, hanging it on the console hook, and shook his head. “Can it wait ’til tomorrow?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

He huffed, rubbing a tired hand over his tired face. “Fine. What is it?”

I placed my book on the table at my elbow and tented my fingers. “There comes a time in every young man’s life when—”

“Oh, brother.” Beau rolled his eyes and turned for the stairs. “I don’t have time for one of your speeches, Cletus. I’m exhausted.”

“Fine, I’ll just say it plain. I’m not interested in Shelly Sullivan. But I’m happy you are. Good for you both. Go forth and prosper.”

Beau halted suddenly, his foot on the first step of the staircase. The tense line of his shoulders told me I’d caught him off guard, a suspicion confirmed by the clear shock in his eyes as he swung them to me.

“What did you say?”

At just that moment a knock sounded at our door, several urgent rappings against the solid wood. Beau looked over his shoulder and turned back to the door. We swapped confused stares.

Despite Repo’s assurances over the phone on Saturday that he’d keep Catfish on a leash until we met, had the Iron Wraiths’ captain ignored his leader? Except I hadn’t heard any motorcycles.

“Who is it?” Beau called. I could see by his hesitation that he had the same suspicion.

“It’s Jennifer Sylvester.”

I jumped from my chair and jogged to the door, beating Beau there by three paces. I swung it open, revealing my woman’s tear-stained face. She was still in the same clothes as earlier, jeans and a T-shirt, but she wore no jacket or sweater. Her eyes were big and sad, red and puffy from crying, and she was holding herself.

Alarm hit me square between the eyeballs. I pulled her into the house and wrapped her in my arms.

“What happened? What happened to you? Are you okay?”

She was ice cold. Her teeth were chattering. I rubbed her arms.

Jennifer nodded against my chest, sniffling. “I’m okay. I’m not hurt. Well, except my feet.”

I glanced down, horrified to find her barefoot. “Where are your shoes?”

“At my parents’ house. It’s a—” she sobbed, her breath hitching, “a long story.”

“Beau, go put on some tea.” I glanced over my shoulder, but found my brother was no longer there.

Frowning at his disappearance and frantic over her state of disarray, I plucked her from the ground and carried her to my grandmother’s favorite chair. I wrapped her in my grandmother’s favorite quilt, constructed from her old party dresses, and placed the moonshine I’d been drinking against her lips.

“Drink this, just a little. It’ll warm you up.”

Her lips were blue, almost purple, and she nodded, taking a sip. I had to hold the glass because she was shaking so badly. I pushed my fingers into her hair, which was loose and tangled around her shoulders, and she leaned her cheek against my palm.

“What happened?” I pressed, unable to curtail the question.

I needed to know who to maim.

She sighed, closing her eyes. “My father was waiting for me . . . when I got home.”

Cold dread seized my heart, sending ice and wrath through my veins.

I worked to keep my tone even. “Did he hurt you?”

It didn’t matter what the answer was, I was going to tear his world apart. I was going to destroy him, grind him to dust beneath the heel of my boot.

She shook her head. “He didn’t strike me, if that’s what you mean.”

A herd of elephants coming down the stairwell—or what sounded like it—had me looking over my shoulder. Billy, followed closely by a concerned-looking Beau, crossed the room and stood at my side.

“Is she okay?” Billy asked, frowning between Jennifer and me. “What can we do?”

“You can make some tea. And put a quantity of spirits in it. Better yet, heat up some chicken broth.”

Billy nodded once and then surprised me by stepping forward and squatting next to where Jennifer sat. He squeezed her shoulder briefly then rubbed her arm through the blanket.

“Cletus will tell you, but you need to believe him. You have a safe place here and should stay as long as you want.”

She nodded, but kept her eyes closed, her mouth pressed into a stiff line. She was trying not to cry.

Billy gave her arm one more squeeze, sending me a glance of support, then stood. “Come on, Beau. Let’s give them some privacy.”

“What? Privacy? Why?”

“Because, dummy, that’s his woman and they need some privacy.”

“Wait, what?” Beau’s reply was sharp and stunned.